Classics and the Western Canon discussion

I have to post this quickly because our Internet is being very erratic today (haven't been able to get to GR for the past two hours, am on now but don't know for how long).

So will just post the opening thread for Book 2, and try to make some substantive posts if access allows.

My overall impression of this book is "nothing much happens. Everything happens."

I'm having a load of trouble trying to figure out Fyodor's character and behavior. Is he really as much of a fool as he appears? Or is he a Shakespearean fool? Is there mere emptiness behind his buffoonery, or is it hiding shrewdness that I'm not at the moment seeing? Why does Dostoevsky give him so much time and attention if there's really nothing there? Is he primarily a mirror which reflects back the characters of the other participants?

Can anybody help me make sense of him during these episodes?

There are so many little but significant, I think, touches throughout these scenes. For one example, early in Chapter 2, we see Father Zosima come in and exchange kisses and blessings with the monks. Miusov had earlier planned that he ought to go up to receive the elder's blessing, as a matter of politeness even though he didn't really believe in it. But when the reality was put before him, he changed his mind and merely made a "conventional bow."

It seemed to me a universal question that most of us who have been faced with a significant but unfamiliar ritual have gone through. It could be an appearance in court, it could be a first attendance at a new and unfamiliar church, in my case it was being invited to a formal dinner at a very posh New York City men's club which was totally out of the scope of anything I had encountered before. We think in advance what we will do, but when faced with the reality we wind up making the best of what we can and hoping we didn't make a total fool of ourselves or reveal how inadequate to the situation we feel.

I like the popular theory, proposed by various critics, that Fyodor Pavlovich is the emblem of brute human nature. He does seem to represent human nature at its least spiritualized or cultivated. He is the raw stuff that we are before civilization or spiritual and ethical ideals get imprinted on us so as to subdue our otherwise impulsive, reflexive itch-then-scratch existence.

He is the prototypical biological existent, the root of the psyche. We're reminded time and again that Alyosha is, and always will be, his son, despite his spiritual striving. So will Ivan, who seeks his own very different transcendence of his biological nature, as a rationalist. The taint of their lineage cannot be totally removed, which reminds us I think that any genuine spiritual growth must not ignore the taint of our roots, but must instead confront and accept this taint, integrating it into the larger perspective. The lotus blooms out of the mucky, dark, biological depths, as it were. How each relates to this lineage, to these roots, is also now that I think of it very indicative of their characters.. but this is rolling ahead somewhat.

Fyodor Pavlovich is indeed caricaturish and ridiculous. Dostoyevsky does not wish to glamourize this lower nature, the way a Sade might, or even Freud with his concept of the Id, but to show it in its impish, ridiculous form. I agree that he does resemble the prototypical fool. I also agree that at times he doesn't seem quite so simple as he puts out.. He seems oddly aware. Almost volitional. I think you notice this a great deal as the narrative rolls on. The degree to which he really is simple is an interesting question.

Sorry, importing context from a bird's eye view of the whole narrative. Don't mean to spoil or direct anyone's reading, but it is impossible to answer these questions entirely from the vantage point of Book 2.

There are many extraordinary religious issues/questions/quandaries raised in this Book. One that struck me particularly was in Chapter 4 where the "Lady of Little Faith" (Garnett chapter head) says "I shut my eyes and ask myself if every one has faith, where did it come from?"

Where indeed does faith come from? Hasn't that been a central question of religion since, well since there was religion? Why do some have faith, but others not? Why for some does faith seem to ebb and flow, to come sometimes so strongly that it overwhelms, and at other times seem to be distant, if not completely gone?

I think of the cry of the father in Mark 9:24: "And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."

Isn't it a question that was inherent in James's Experiences? Did anybody feel that he answered it?

The Syntopicon (of the Great Books series) has a set of references on faith, its "nature, causes, and conditions" that would take a month to fully explore, but this question is driving me at least to spend some time pursuing these references.

In BK it is clear (to me at least) that Zosima has great faith, as does Alyosha, as do most of the peasant women who crowd at Zosima's feet. But Miusov has none (did he ever?), Ivan claims to have none, Foydor appears not to but does he really underneath his buffoonery?

Is it a simple matter of "these have faith, these don't"? Or is it more complex than that?

Elena wrote: "Sorry, importing context from a bird's eye view of the whole narrative. Don't mean to spoil or direct anyone's reading, but it is impossible to answer these questions entirely from the vantage point of Book 2"

Part of the richness of reading the work and discussing it in depth as we proceed through it is, I think, the ability to formulate preliminary ideas as we encounter the work and, through group development, work to refine/change/correct/deepen/enrich these ideas and understandings as we get deeper into the work. Which is why I, personally, try to avoid reading too much criticism until much nearer the end of the book, when I have more developed ideas which I can then put up against those of the critics to see whether or where I agree or disagree with them.

Elena wrote: "I like the popular theory, proposed by various critics, that Fyodor Pavlovich is the emblem of brute human nature. He does seem to represent human nature at its least spiritualized or cultivated. H..."

Does brute human nature accumulate wealth the way Fyodor does?

BTW, welcome to the group. I've enjoyed reading your first posts.

Everyman wrote: "Where indeed does faith come from?"

Define faith. Then we'll talk. :)

Everyman: "I, personally, try to avoid reading too much criticism until much nearer the end of the book, when I have more developed ideas which I can then put up against those of the critics to see whether or where I agree or disagree with them."

Same here. I read this a few months ago, so have since had time to read some criticism and to try and extract these larger patterns that I am trying to present here.. without spilling the beans! That's the thing with as densely constructed a work as Dostoyevsky's: the larger pattern is already implicit at the very beginning. I can see that pattern now, long after I finished the book. I just can't un-see it, and be back to the frame of mind I was in at book 2, which is why I am trying to be careful. I am not sure how to discuss those implicit glimpses without bringing in this bird's eye view of the whole narrative tapestry.

I am grateful for this thread. I couldn't find anyone to discuss this with all this time!

Nemo: "Does brute human nature accumulate wealth the way Fyodor does?"

“Brute human nature" is indeed a bit of a fictional construct, as there is no such thing. Even our must impulsive being is laced with intelligence. However, most intelligence is merely devoted to increasing the satisfaction of our sensual nature. This brings to mind a quote from "Notes From Underground":

“The only gain of civilisation for mankind is the greater capacity for variety of sensations - and absolutely nothing more.”

This perhaps accounts for the ambiguity of Fyodor Pavlovich's character: one cannot say just how “brute” or “simple” he really is in the end.

Everyman wrote: "Can anybody help me make sense of him during these episodes?

This passage is significant. It occurs shortly after Fyodor leaves with every intention of going home, but abruptly changes his mind, as if he cannot help it:

“I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all, and that they all take me for a buffoon; so I say let me play the buffoon, for you are, every one of you, stupider and lower than I." He longed to revenge himself on every one for his own unseemliness. He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shameless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him.”

I mentioned in the book 1 discussion that he seems to want to play the role of the village idiot, and also, that he seems somewhat addicted to a rascally way of thinking and behaving. He almost can't seem to help himself. He likes attention, obviously, but I think he just keeps chattering and digging himself deeper because it is somehow the only way he knows how to behave. I guess he is kind of shakespearean fool, as you say. However, I don't think he really intends to upset Alyosha, as he seems to be fond of him - better than Dmitri, anyway (also called Mitya?), whom he of course is clearly trying to embarrass. I think these episodes show that he is both insensitive & selfish and completely unaware of Alyosha's feelings.

The first part of the quoted passage "I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all" nicely ties into the elder's strange gesture of deeply bowing to him. I guess a truly wise man knows that he should bow to a fool?

Also, I am interested in what is revealed about Alyosha in this book. I suspected from the beginning that he wasn't meant for the monk's life and it appears that the elder agrees. Alyosha seems willing to believe anything anyone tells him. (he fancies he knows about a crime merely because Ratikin suggest it to him).

About Dmitri, Ratikin says:
I caught the whole man from one trait. These very honest but passionate people have a line which mustn't be crossed. If it were he'd run at your father with a knife. "

More hints of murder and intrigue.

I was a bit puzzled by the talk about being a sensualist. I am not familiar with the idea nor why it seemingly cannot co-exist with being a spiritual person.

Everyman wrote: "
Is it a simple matter of "these have faith, these don't"? Or is it more complex than that?..."

It does seem that Alyosha is a believer but he is not a questioner. Maybe he is just a bit naive and loving and accepting but not necessarily a man of "Great Faith". Anyway, apparently he is not the sort of believer who belongs in a monastery. perhaps a monk is supposed to be an aesthete, and not a "sensualist"? I have no idea.

Elena wrote: "I can just see Dostoyevsky painting a caricature of my little definition, in a sub-chapter, perhaps, of his critique of rationalist attempts to frame religious understanding. ..."

Have no fear. Nobody can caricature reason with reason. :)

Theresa wrote: "..."He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shameless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him.”..."

I wonder, Fyodor must have hated the person even before he wronged him. And yet, he hated his victim more afterwards, why?

Nemo wrote: "Theresa wrote: "..."He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shameless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has..."

I think most of us love people that we are able to help in some way, it makes us feel good. People we have wronged make us feel guilty. People we have wronged are annoying and uncomfortable to be around. Most of us wouldn't do so far as to say we hate them but it might not be far from the truth.

I believe he may have felt disdainful to the person before he played the dirty trick on him, but afterward he hated that person. He doesn't say anything about hating him before. I wonder if he will come to hate some of his sons or the monks after these incidents.

One aspect of Fyodor's personality is that he reflects back on people what they think of him. Miusov is the opposite. He projects onto people what he wants them to think of him. Does he have original thoughts, or is everything he says ideas he's collected during his travels?

I noticed how silent Fyodor was during the discussion over the ecclesiastical courts, the only time he is not a buffoon. Perhaps D. didn't want him distracting from that discussion, but his silence stands out. Fyodor always makes himself the center of attention.

I found it interesting how the people waiting for a moment of the Elder's time are, except for the monk, all women, and they are suffering -- psychic suffering. They all bear physical suffering better than physical suffering. D. and psychic suffering.

Lise bears her physical suffering well, and doesn't appear to suffer psychically. She knows Alyosha from before, playfully embarrassing him by wondering out loud why he hasn't visited her. The Elder promises to send Alyosha to visit her, so maybe we will see her again. I hope so. Lise is the one character I liked immediately. Keep thinking of her. And I wonder why Alyosha hasn't visited her.

Back to Miusov and what I said before about him offering ideas that are not his own and he doesn't understand.

"The purest Ultramontanism," cried Miusov impatiently, crossing and recrossing his legs. "Oh, well, we have no mountains,"

This is said during a discussion concerning the authority of ecclesiastical courts, and I can't help thinking D. is making a fool of Miusov here with that comment about not having any mountains.

I'm on chapter seven, but I want to jump in before the conversation moves on. Addressing Fyodr's character, I've seen a theme of deception and masking emerge. For example, the lady in chapter four confesses to Father Zossima and appears sincere, but he sees through her. She responds, "You have crushed me! Only now, as you speak, I understand that I was really only seeking your approbation for my sincerity when I told you I could not endure ingratitude." Zossima warns her to avoid falsehood, especially to herself.

In chapter six Zossima is once again able to see through Ivan - that Ivan is making an insincere argument about Church and State that he doesn't believe himself.

A few pages later when Dmitri is explaining why he beat his father's agent he exclaims, "It's all a lie! Outwardly it's the truth, but inwardly, a lie!" Once again building on the theme developed in this section that appearances can be deceiving and rarely tell the whole story.

And a few paragraphs later Miusov declares that he has been deceived as to the purpose and nature of their meeting with Father Zossima. But is he sincere? Clearly he suspected Fyodr might do something scandalous.

So in regards to Fyodr, he is a man prone to deception. But he wears so many masks and his deception runs so deep, that it's impossible to tell when he's sincere or if he's even capable of being authentic. This makes him unpredictable, possibly even to himself. I doubt he has an overarching master plan. His goal is survival and he improvises as needed.

Jeremy wrote: " His goal is survival and he improvises as needed. ..." Exactly.

Everyman wrote: "Where indeed does faith come from?

Isn't it a question that was inherent in James's Experiences? Did anybody feel that he answered it? "

If we equivocate faith with religion in this instance as I think we may, Karl Marx may have answered the question best when he claimed religion is the man-made response to, expression of, and protest against real suffering. The perspective of alleviating suffering is clearly demonstrated when Father Zosimma visits the women, especially the one who lost her son. Karl Marx famous quote in its full context may be found in the first 6 paragraphs here: https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx...

James focused more on the happiness that religious experiences provide than the suffering it reduced. This perspective is demonstrated in BK when Alyosha remarks how much happier people are after having met with Father Zossima.

Both philosophers hang their positions on the utility of religion. Marx explains how religion is used as an unfortunate symptom of and illusory coping mechanism for suffering that should be supplanted by real happiness. James sees religion as a useful and therefore a pragmatically true means of attaining happiness and healthy-mindedness.

While for me, James overall argument fails because the illusion of a pragmatic truth fails to satisfy in the way truth in the more conventional meaning of word does, he may be on the right track in explaining why some have faith and some do not. His first born personality type might not perceive themselves as suffering enough to require faith to cope with the world as much the sick souls and twice born personality types. This seems especially applicable in the cognitive dissonance that Ivan is apparently going to wrestle from the plurality of his atheist tendencies yet writing articles in support of the ecclesiastical courts.

It appears for now that D is somewhere in the middle and would say faith is a necessary and pragmatically essential source of compassion and perseverance for those who are seeking respite from their suffering.

Theresa wrote: "Nemo wrote: "Theresa wrote: "..."He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shameless impudence, "I'll tel..."

Jeremy spoke of Fyodor's deception. I'm beginning to wonder whether we can ever take his words at face value. For example, is he capable of genuine feeling? When he says he "hate" or "love" someone, what does it really mean?

Nemo asks if Fyodor, the impulsive, is capable of genuine feeling. I think Zosima's speech to him answers the question: we become incapable of feeling when we lie to ourselves and to others. His clowning around is a symptom of his non-committal stance vis-a-vis reality; reality exists to satisfy his whims. To protect himself from responsibility, he clowns around so much and tells so many lies to others and to himself that he loses the capacity to distinguish between truth and lie - even within himself.

What does it mean when he says that he loves or hates? Not much at all, IMO. Perhaps the point D is trying to make by this character is that if we adopt such a non-committal, responsibility-evading attitude to life, we render our own lives meaningless.

I really think the faith issue should be reserved for later chapters. Especially after we get to more fully meet and compare Mitya and Ivan. Ivan's LACK of faith shows more about what D thinks about faith than does the presence of positively faithful characters such as Zosima or Alyosha.

Nemo wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Where indeed does faith come from?"

Define faith. Then we'll talk. :)"

Nice try.

Elena wrote: "I am grateful for this thread. I couldn't find anyone to discuss this with all this time!."

And we're happy to have you come discuss with us.

Everyman wrote: "I'm having a load of trouble trying to figure out Fyodor's character and behavior."

He strikes me as a person who has to be the center of attention and cannot endure silence. He has to insert himself at all times and play the dominant one. Instead of letting discussions develop naturally, he has to put a stamp on it right away, no matter how buffoonish it may be. He exhausts me! You'd think here they are in the cell with the starets, and a very different conversation would emerge, but no, Fyodor has to dominate and prattle on and on with such utterly trivial nonsense to the point of annoying everyone beyond endurance.
I could name a few such situations where I had expected passing the time much more pleasantly were it not for an endless prattler who in the end said absolutely nothing!

Elena wrote: "Perhaps the point D is trying to make by this character is that if we adopt such a non-committal, responsibility-evading attitude to life, we render our own lives meaningless."

I like the advice against lying leading to the inability to distinguish what is the truth is, and how it leads to a loss of respect for one's self and others. But it would seem hypocritical for D to imply that such a life of irresponsibility is meaningless when the character's personality is so necessary to the story? Doesn't even an irresponsible life have consequences of some value to someone? Would the story be more or less meaningful if Fyodor was a responsible version of himself? Is it not precisely his irresponsible ways that produced the 3 brothers and brought them together again at this time. At the very least, the meaning of Fyodor's life could be to serve as a warning to others, or to allow us to hear Father Zossima's advise on why one shouldn't lie.

We don't know very much of Fyodor's history, do we? I hope we find out, but it may be that D. doesn't want to justify Fyodor's behavior. We will see.

There is casual lying. It occurs when it becomes easier to lie than tell the truth, even when the truth is benign. It's one step away from fabricating your own fantasy world. This seems to be what Fyodor is doing, especially at the dinner, Yet I can't help thinking D, is also using Fyodor to criticize the church -- it's pretensions, it's hypocrisy.

So be it! So be it! (Ch. 5) I will be interested in looking up D's position on the separation of Church and State in his later life re courts in the 1880's. Not Ultramontanism, the Roman papal authority decried by Miusov. Ivan Fyodorovich's Church would absorb the State (chapter title uttered by a monk in support of this position). His Church sincerely believes that criminals would best be punished and deterred by excommunication, rather than imprisonment or even death. Eternal damnation was a scary thing.

When we speak of the Separation of Church and State in the US, it is in reference to financial matters ( tuition in parochial schools, charitable status for tax purposes) or no establishment of a state religion. State law rules over church law, period.

Interesting that Christian Socialists are scarier than atheist socialists.

If Ivan wrote this detailed article just to get a girl, I would be surprised. And does he truly believe it?

What do you all think of the discussion in chapter 5 of church vs state with respect to punishment and the redemption of criminals?

What were the role of the elders in the church? What does the reference in chapter 8 mean that the elders may have "abused the sacrament of confession?"

Dianne wrote: "What were the role of the elders in the church?

There was a link posted in last week's discussion. In a nutshell, they were/are revered men of ascetisicm and deep holiness.

What does the reference in chapter 8 mean that the elders may have "abused the sacrament of confession?"

Generally speaking, and this is true for the Orthodox Church as much as the Catholic Church, confession is one of the seven sacraments. Confessions can only be heard by an ordained priest who has the authority to absolve sins.
The priest is bound the the "seal of confession," which means, he can never reveal what the penitent confessed in the confessional, nor repeat it to the penitent himself at a later time. Should a priest violate this confidentiality he risks excommunication. So this is a pretty big deal.

In the next paragraph Fyodor is rebuked by the narrator:

"absurd charges which had died away of themselves everywhere [...] for on this occasion no one had been kneeling and confessing aloud in the elder's cell, so that he could not have seen anything of the kind. He was only speaking from confused memory of old slanders.

Confession is always done alone with the priest, never in company of others. And there is a ritual/form to it. None of that happened when the starets visited with the women who came to see him at the monastery wall.
Fyodor could also have referred to the fact that not all starets were/are ordained priests. Ordination is separate from being a holy man, hermit, or monk. But because the starets enjoyed such trust within the community, people voluntarily told them all kinds of stuff. But this in itself is not a confession in the sacramental sense and for the elder to give friendly advice is not an absolution of sin.

I have a few more thoughts on the role of the starets/elder. I waited until this week to post this as D gave us a little more insight on how Zossima interacted with the general populace.

I started thinking of the role of holy men (and women) in general. If we cast the net a little wider or go further back in history, the oracles fulfilled this role of dispersing wisdom and giving divinely inspired messages to the general populace. In other cultures we have shamans, holy men and women, etc. who through their asceticism and deep spiritual knowledge gained the awe, respect and deep trust of the communities around them. Or if we go into the realm of fiction, there is Merlin.

With the starets/elder we have a version of a holy man as it comes to us from the earliest days of Christianity and the Desert Fathers. I find it fascinating that within the Christian Orthodox tradition this has been preserved pretty much unaltered into our day. Then as now, folks with all kinds of concerns will flock to such holy men for spiritual insight and wisdom.

Even though our Christian tradition in the West has some cultural differences, in essence they are still the same. Catholicism and Christian Orthodoxy has far more in common than the differences that separate us. And we do have our own versions of the starets/elder, most of them we have given the title of saint. In Western Europe folks would flock just the same to people of high spiritual renown. The hagiographies of the saints are full of these kinds of stories. Monasteries and convents in the West also had – in similar fashion as is described in BK - windows through which folks from the “outside” could communicate with the monks or nuns they wished to see, especially if they were known locally as particularly holy.

In our recent memory there are two women who come to mind who fulfilled this role of an elder in an extraordinary way, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who will be canonized next month, and Mother Angelica, foundress of EWTN.

Theresa wrote: "This passage is significant.... He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, "Why do you hate so and so, so much?" And he had answered them, with his shameless impudence, "I'll tell you. He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him.”.."

I actually think that's a fairly common trait, at least among people who have a sense of decency/shame. If you know you've wronged somebody, but aren't able for whatever reason to apologize, I think people develop a resentment against the person for perpetually reminding them of their wrongness which can turn into hatred. I saw this among some of the students I used to teach.

Theresa wrote: "I think most of us love people that we are able to help in some way, it makes us feel good. People we have wronged make us feel guilty. People we have wronged are annoying and uncomfortable to be around. Most of us wouldn't do so far as to say we hate them but it might not be far from the truth. "

A better way of putting it than mine.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "And I wonder why Alyosha hasn't visited her [Lise]. "

Perhaps because he has feelings for her that he things a monastery resident shouldn't have?

Jeremy wrote: "I'm on chapter seven, but I want to jump in before the conversation moves on. Addressing Fyodr's character, I've seen a theme of deception and masking emerge. For example, the lady in chapter four ..."

I really like these observations.

As to Foydor, I'm wondering whether his primary trait is that of a bully? Or is it vast insecurity?

Elena wrote: "Nemo asks if Fyodor, the impulsive, is capable of genuine feeling. I think Zosima's speech to him answers the question: we become incapable of feeling when we lie to ourselves and to others. "

Very true.

Everyman wrote: "Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "And I wonder why Alyosha hasn't visited her [Lise]. "

Perhaps because he has feelings for her that he things a monastery resident shouldn't have?"

Would Alyosha have this kind of freedom after entering the monastic community? I thought they are integrated into the life of the monastery and had/have very limited opportunity to visit family and friends.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "We don't know very much of Fyodor's history, do we? I hope we find out, but it may be that D. doesn't want to justify Fyodor's behavior. We will see..."

This occurred to me too. I wonder if finding out more about Fyodor's history might make him more sympathetic.

There's a line in the last chapter of Book 2, when Fyodor excuses his scandalous behaviour by saying, "I'm taking revenge for my lost youth, for all my humiliations!", which suggests some character-forming events in his early life that we don't (yet?) know about.

I also find the "sincerité" of Fyodor, in opposition to the "noblesse" of Miusov, very entertaining. Fyodor's at his best so far when taking on the haughty, self-important Miusov.

Everyman wrote: "Perhaps because he has feelings for her that he things a monastery resident shouldn't have?"

That's what I'm wondering. Alyosha's friend, who is not a friend, has no trouble visiting women. Seems there's a lot of variety in devoutness at this monastery. And what's with Maximov running off with Fyodor? It's like he's escaping captivity.

What exactly is Alyosha's position at the monastery? Is he monk in training, or is he just an aid and not yet an official member. Oh, well, the Elder tells Alyosha to leave, that this is not his calling at this time. So let's see if he visits Lise.

Dave wrote: "I also find the "sincerité" of Fyodor, in opposition to the "noblesse" of Miusov, very entertaining. Fyodor's at his best so far when taking on the haughty, self-important Miusov. "

Yes, if Fyodor is a dissolute provocateur, Miusov is a phony. For all Miusov's blustering about Fyodor's treatment of Mitya, once having rescued Mitya Miusov forgot about him as quickly as did Fyodor. Fyodor is more honest with himself than Miusov is with himself.

SusanK wrote: "Interesting that Christian Socialists are scarier than atheist socialists."

I'm glad someone else brought up the passage about socialism. Why would a Christian socialist be scarier than an atheist who is a socialist? Socialism is also mentioned in the first part as well. The narrator states that socialism isn't only about the labor question but about the atheistic question as well. He compares socialists to those who built the Tower of Babel - according to the narrator they were trying to build Heaven on earth. And in the second part the monks are accused of possibly being socialists.

I don't think we have enough material yet to see how this idea relates to the text as a whole. But it is a topic I've noted to see how/if it develops more fully later.

Dianne wrote: "What do you all think of the discussion in chapter 5 of church vs state with respect to punishment and the redemption of criminals? "

The discussion in 2.5 is rather long-winded and obscure, but I think this is one of the central themes of BK and will be developed further in the book.

Miusov thinks the church and the state are of the same nature, and confuses the ultimate goal of the church with that of socialism; Ivan understands intellectually that the church and the state are different in nature and have different goals/ideals, but he doesn't believe in the ideal of the church; Zosima believes in the ideal of the church, and points to the conscience in man as reason to hope that every individual is valuable and redeemable.

In short, the state punishes people for their crimes and does not redeem them. They are mechanically cut off from society as refuse; the church withholds its punishment and seeks to redeem people, not as criminals but as captive children, through restoration of the inner man and freedom.

Elena wrote: "I really think the faith issue should be reserved for later chapters. Especially after we get to more fully meet and compare Mitya and Ivan. . ."

Coming from someone who has read the book this may be very good advise. However, I can imagine there were many discussions on the issue with each published installment in its original serialized format which is comparable to the way we are reading it. It might even be interesting to see how our discussion of it evolves as the arguments around faith develop in the coming books. Either way, I do think it should be noted that the famous paraphrased quote that often precedes the reading of BK of, "If God is dead, then everything is permitted", is first expressed here in book II.

Ivan Fyodorovitch added in parenthesis that the whole natural law lies in that faith, and that if you were to destroy in mankind the belief in immortality, not only love but every living force maintaining the life of the world would at once be dried up. Moreover, nothing then would be immoral, everything would be lawful, even cannibalism. That's not all. He ended by asserting that for every individual, like ourselves, who does not believe in God or immortality, the moral law of nature must immediately be changed into the exact contrary of the former religious law, and that egoism, even to crime, must become not only lawful but even recognized as the inevitable, the most rational, even honorable outcome of his position.

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov (p. 41). BookMasters. Kindle Edition.

It does raise a burning question though, why is it Ivan with his lack of belief that makes this argument? It is also worth wondering if Fyodor is the personification of this argument. He seems capable of just about anything without moral hardship.

Everyman said:Is it a simple matter of "these have faith, these don't"? Or is it more complex than that?

I saw the characters in book 2 reflect just that, or some maybe had doubt versus complete unbelief. It was hard for me to come to a conclusion about Ivan, whether he was an atheist or just has a lot of doubt. His thesis on Church & State, confused me about exactly where he stood r/t belief in God as he had made the statements about not believing that the soul was immortal & therefore individuals should just do what they please.

I thought D. drew great contrast between faith & doubt especially between Zossimov & Alyosha and Ivan & Dmitri. Fydor, I can't add anything to what everyone else has said except that I think his selfishness is not an act. Perhaps D. uses him as a foil to the goodness in other characters.

David wrote: "Elena wrote: "I really think the faith issue should be reserved for later chapters. Especially after we get to more fully meet and compare Mitya and Ivan. . ."

Coming from someone who has read the..."

I don't understand Elena's comment. Maybe she'll clarify. I read the book about sixteen years ago, so not recently, but what struck me at the time was how pervasive the idea of religious faith is in the novel. I don't see how we can fully discuss the book without talking about faith and religion. Having said that, the topic is definitely developed more later, so any conclusions should be tentative, but isn't that true of anything discussed so early in a novel?

Re: David

"It does raise a burning question though, why is it Ivan with his lack of belief that makes this argument? It is also worth wondering if Fyodor is the personification of this argument. He seems capable of just about anything without moral hardship."

This is an awesome question. I have been struggling with this problem since I read this, even though I never managed to articulate it so succinctly in the form of a definite question. The crisis he undergoes in the final parts of the book will reveal a lot about Ivan's character, but the answer to the question only seems to become more problematic as the novel progresses... (and I am still far from figuring out my own answer)...

We can already tell that Ivan (like all the other sons) defines himself a great deal in opposition to his father. He, like all the other sons, tries his best to transcend the father's condition, which shames him.

But the ignominious paternal inheritance seems to weigh even more heavily on poor Ivan than it does even on the novice Alyosha. D established the need of rationalist humanists for an optimistic ontology back since his Notes From Underground. Without this ontological optimism, what becomes of the rationalist Ivan's ideals? What is to stop him from being like Fyodor if there is no rational moral order in nature? How is he to prevent, by his own inner resources, his corruption into a character he loathes? This seems to be the problem. Is he ironic when he mentions faith as the only solution? Or is there desperation laced with the irony?

Decades later, Camus described the absurd as the nature of the relationship of the human existent, with its ideals and needs, to a world that does not in any way respond to or reflect these ideals and needs. The absurd being here nothing more than the discrepancy between what man wants and what the world has to offer. Ivan's discovery and struggle clearly seems to anticipate Camus and the other existentialists.

My question is, DOES rationalism inevitably veer into nihilism, as Ivan's character seems to suggest?

The quote you bring up about the necessity of faith for human moral realization, coming from Ivan the atheist, also brings up an issue that is often hotly debated among critics: ie, the extent to which Ivan is a literary anticipation of Nietzsche. Especially later on, the resemblance is uncanny.